Thanksgiving
The nearly 18 hour drive from
Memphis to New Jersey included minor excitements like getting lost in Kentucky
– well I wasn’t lost so much as GPS lost me
– and a nice three hour nap at a beautiful mountain side hotel in West Virginia
– I can’t believe I didn’t take a picture of the view. I arrived home on
Thanksgiving just in time for hors d’oeuvres, but a little too late for the
dip. No one except my cousin was expecting me, so when I knocked on the glass
front door, there was some confusion and quite the commotion. All the men came
trucking up from the downstairs football room (it’s actually called the
“Rutgers room,” it’s sort of like my parents’ collective man cave re-decorated
top to bottom in Scarlet and Black, but on holidays like Thanksgiving, it’s where
the football is). My mother emerged from the kitchen, shaken and confused, I’d
never seen her look so small as she did when she started crying at the sight of
me. I’d never seen her cry at the sight of me (except probably the day I was
born, but there was a lot happening that day so I don’t remember all the
details). I was showered with hugs and kisses and we all laughed and joked.
Immediately after all the people who knew what was going on were appropriately
greeted, I grabbed for my nephew. I hadn’t held him since he was born three
months before and a month early to boot. He was all filled out now, not like
the skinny, scrawny guy he came out as. Fluffy and round and all smiles once
the dust kicked up over my arrival finally settled.
We sat down for dinner shortly
after that. What they’ll never know is I purposefully timed it so I wouldn’t
have to set the table, which is usually my holiday chore! It’s funny how you
can go home and it’s as though you never left. Sure the faces around the table
are different and sit a little higher than they did the year before, or in the
case of the shrinking old folk around the table, lower (wink nudge, Old Folk).
The jokes are still funny, though some need to be explained due to my absence,
and the conversation is still rich with equal parts intelligence and wit. The
glasses were full of wine and not sparkling cider, now and the subject matter is
more like CNN than MTV, though we’re never too old to talk musical pop culture
and make a dig about reality television. When dinner was over, the “kids,”
though the youngest of us is 21 now, stole away to the downstairs room, which
was now our game room. Every year, we play a “boys vs. girls” trivia game
(perhaps it should be “men vs. women” now), in fact, it was the realization that
with our female cousin out of the country for a semester abroad, my sister
would have to carry the weight of the women’s team alone that made me feel
homesick enough to make the great journey from Blue’s City through the Hills
[that] Have Eyes to my home. We sat down and played a new game this year,
naturally the women dominated. In the men’s defense, they had a screaming
infant on their team.
That Saturday night, my father
and I decided to go down the shore for a Restore the Shore fundraiser at some of
the bars in the Belmar area. Anyone who knows the shore bars in New Jersey can
appreciate the interesting experience that was my father and I at Bar A. It’s
usually a scene filled with loud music, muscles, and alumni from high school.
This night, though, it was so neat to see people of all ages, older than my
father and younger than me, all come together to show support for our damaged shores. We bought Restore the Shore t-shirts and decided to
take a drive to the beach. We walked on the boardwalk, or what was left of it
anyway. It was a sad sight. We weren’t even sure if we were allowed to be
standing on it. It was warped and possibly condemned. There was a sign that
read, “Caution: Boardwalk Closed.” It should have said, “Caution: Boardwalk
Non-Existent.” I love the shore. I love what it means to my childhood, but I know
it meant that much more to my dad’s generation and to my dad. The beach is his
thinking place, where he goes to unwind; day and night. To see it like that and
be there with him broke my heart into almost as many pieces as the boardwalk
itself. Don’t forget: just because it isn’t current, doesn’t mean it isn’t
still in need. Visit: http://shoresunited.org/ or http://www.redcross.org/ to see what you can do to help my dad get his thinking place back!
Any trip home is usually
accompanied by a trip into New York. I hate to be so close to my favorite city
in the world (to be fair, I haven’t seen many) and not venture in. My roommate
from Knoxville was actually in the City for the weekend, so we met up and did
New York-y things. We’re both Sex and the City obsessed (she calls me her
“Little Carrie Bradshaw,” though I can't imagine why ;) ), so we decided to track
down some SatC sights. 
We visited Carrie’s famous front stoops and Magnolia
Bakery, where Carrie and Miranda eat cupcakes in Season III,
Episode V “No Ifs, Ands or Butts.” I had a snicker doodle cupcake – it was
freakin’ fantastic. We sat on a bench in the park across the street to eat them. Then we just walked the streets of New York, window shopped
and talked like girls do. It was our very own episode of Sex and the City!
With the exception of my day in
New York and my trip to the shore with my dad, I spent every day with my mom, sister and nephew. The three of us
call ourselves the “Lady J’s,” so I guess my nephew was sort of like our mascot
all weekend, if mascots spit-up and pee on you. I was more in love with him
after that trip than when I first met him in August. I know my love is only
going to grow as he does! It was harder to leave everyone, now that everyone
included that little Nugget than it ever had been before. Alas, the road waits
for no man (except that, actually, it does) and I had to head back to my adult
home. It was a weekend of football and movies, comfort food and family time. It
was the perfect cap to my soul-searching journey.
Who says you can’t go home?
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